CHAPTER IX. A DINNER AT THE RECTORY

These are men who have specialities for giving admirable "little dinners," and little dinners are unquestionably the _ne plus ultra_ of social enjoyment. To accomplish these there are far more requirements necessary than the world usually wots of. They are not the triumphs of great houses, with regiments of yellow plush and gold candelabra; they affect no vast dining-rooms, nor a private band. They are, on the contrary, the prerogatives of moderate incomes, middle-aged or elderly hosts, usually bachelors, with small houses, furnished in the perfection of comfort, without any display, but where everything, from the careful disposal of a fire-screen to the noiseless gait of the footman, shows you that a certain supervision and discipline prevail, even though you never hear an order and rarely see a servant.

Where these people get their cooks, I never could make out! It is easy enough to understand that fish and soup, your sirloin and your woodcock, could be well and carefully dressed, but who devised that exquisite little _entree_, what genius presided over that dish of macaroni, that omelette, or that souffle? Whence, besides, came the infinite taste of the whole meal, with its few dishes, served in an order of artistic elegance? And that butler, too,--how quiet, how observant, how noiseless his ministration; how steady his decanter hand! Where did they find _him?_ And that pale sherry, and that Chablis, and that exquisite cup of Mocha? Don't tell me that you or I can have them all as good,--that you know his wine-merchant, and have the receipt for his coffee. You might as well tell me you could sing like Mario because you employ his hairdresser. No, no; they who accomplish these things are peculiar organizations. They have great gifts of order and system, the nicest perceptions of taste, considerable refinement, and no small share of sensuality. They possess a number of high qualities in miniature, and are, so to say, "great men seen through the wrong end of a telescope."

Of this the Rev. Dr. Millar was a pleasing specimen. With that consciousness of having done everything possible for your comfort which makes a good host, he had a racy gratification in quietly watching your enjoyment. Easily and unobtrusively marking your taste for this or preference for that, he would contrive that your liking should be gratified, as though by mere accident, and never let you know yourself a debtor for the attentions bestowed upon you. It was his pride to have a perfect establishment: would that all vanity were as harmless and as pleasurable to others! And now to the dinner, which, in our digression, we are forgetting.

"Try these cutlets, doctor," interposed the host. "It is a receipt I brought back with me from Provence; I think you 'll find them good."

"An over-rich, greasy sort of cuisine is the Provencale," remarked Ogden.

"And yet almost every good cook of France comes from that country," said Layton.

Ogden raised his large double eye-glass to look at the man who thus dared to "cap" a remark of his.

"I wish we could get out of the bastard French cookery all the clubs give us nowadays," said the Colonel. "You neither see a good English Joint nor a well-dressed entree."

"An emblem of the alliance," said Layton, "where each nation spoils something of its own in the effort to be more palatable to its neighbor."

"Apparently, then, sir, the great statesmen who promoted this policy are not fortunate enough to enjoy your sanction?" said Ogden, with an insolent air.

"My sanction is scarcely the word for it They have not, certainly, my approval."

"I hope you like French wines, though, doctor," said the host, eager to draw the conversation into some easier channel. "Taste that Sauterne."

"It only wants age to be perfect," said the doctor, sipping. "All these French white wines require more time than the red."

Ogden again looked through his glass at the dispensary doctor who thus dared to give Judgment on a question of such connoisseurship; and then, with the air of one not easily imposed on, said,--

"You have travelled much abroad, perhaps?"

Layton bowed a silent assent

"I think I saw a German diploma amongst the papers you forwarded to our committee?" said Karstairs.

"Yes, I am a doctor of medicine of Gottingen."

"A university, I verily believe, only known to Englishmen through Canning's doggerel," said Ogden.

"I trust not, sir. I hope that Blumenbach's name alone would rescue it from such oblivion."

"I like the Germans, I confess," broke in the Colonel. "I served with Arentschild's Hanoverians, and never knew better or pleasanter fellows."

"Oh, I by no means undervalue Germans!" said Ogden. "I think we, at this very moment, owe to them no small gratitude for suggesting to us the inestimable practice of examination for all public employment."

"In my mind, the greatest humbug of an age of humbug!" said Layton, fiercely.

"Nay, doctor, you will, I 'm certain, recall your words when I tell you that my friend here, Mr. Ogden, is one of the most distinguished promoters of that system."

"The gentleman would confer a far deeper obligation upon me by sustaining than by withdrawing his thesis," said Ogden, with a sarcastic smile.

"To undertake the task of sustaining the cause of ignorance against knowledge," said Layton, quietly, "would be an ungrateful one always.

In the present case, too, it would be like pitting myself against that gentleman opposite. I decline such an office."

"So, then, you confess that such would be your cause, sir?" said Ogden, triumphantly.

"No, sir; but it would partake so much the appearance of such a struggle, that I cannot accept it. What I called a humbug was the attempt to test men's fitness for the public service by an examination at which the most incapable might distinguish himself, and the ablest not pass. The system of examination begot the system of 'grinding,'--a vulgar term for a more vulgar practice, and a system the most fatal to all liberal education, limiting study to a question-and-answer formula, and making acquirements only desirable when within the rubric of a Government commission. Very different would have been the result if the diploma of certain recognized educational establishments had been required as qualification to serve the State; if the law ran, 'You shall be a graduate of this university, or that college, or possess the licentiate degree of that school.'"

"Your observations seem, then, rather directed against certain commissioners than the system they practise?" said Odgen, sarcastically.

"Scarcely, sir. My experience is very limited. I never met but one of them!"

The Colonel laughed heartily at this speech,--he could n't help it; and even the host, mortified as he was, gave a half-smile. As for Ogden, his pale face grew a shade sicklier, and his green eyes more fishy.

"To question the post-office clerk or the landing waiter," continued Layton, with fresh warmth,--for when excited he could rarely control himself,--"to test some poor aspirant for eighty pounds per annum in his knowledge of mathematics or his skill in physical geography, while you make governors that cannot speak correctly, and vice-governors whose despatches are the scorn of Downing Street; to proclaim that you want your tide-waiter to be a moral philosopher, but that the highest offices in the State may be held by any political partisan active enough, troublesome enough, and noisy enough to make himself worth purchase; you demand logarithms and special geometry from a clerk in the Customs, while you make a mill-owner a cabinet minister on the simple showing of his persevering; and your commissioners, too,--'Quis custodiet, ipsos custodes!'"

"You probably, however, submitted to be examined, once on a time, for your medical degree?" asked Ogden.

"Yes, sir; and that ordeal once passed, I had ample leisure to unlearn the mass of useless rubbish required of me, and to address myself to the real cares of my profession. But do you suppose that if it were demanded of me to subject myself to another examination to hold the humble post I now fill, that I should have accepted it?"

"I really cannot answer that question," said Ogden, superciliously.

"Then I will, sir. I would not have done so. Eighty pounds a year is a very attractive bribe, but it may require too costly a sacrifice to win it."

"The neighborhood is a very poor one," struck in Millar, "and, indeed, if it had not been for the strenuous exertions of my friend Colonel Karstairs here, we should never have raised the forty pounds which gives us the claim for as much more in the presentments."

"And yet you got two hundred and thirty for a regatta in June last!"

said Layton, with a quiet smile.

"The way of the world, doctor; the way of the world! Men are never stingy in what regards their own amusements!"

"That is the port, doctor; the other is Lafitte," said the rector, as he saw Layton hesitate about a choice.

And now the talk took a capricious turn, as it will do occasionally, in those companies where people are old-fashioned enough to "sit" after dinner, and let the decanter circulate. Even here, however, conversation could not run smoothly. Ogden launched into the manufacture of wines, the chemistry of adulterations, and the grape disease, on every one of which Layton found something to correct him,--some slip or error to set right,--an annoyance all the more poignant that Karstairs seemed to enjoy it heartily. From fabricated wines to poisons the transition was easy, and they began to talk of certain curious trials wherein the medical testimony formed the turning-point of conviction. Here, again, Layton was his superior in information, and made the superiority felt.

Of what the most subtle tests consisted, and wherein their fallacy lay, he was thoroughly master, while his retentive memory supplied a vast variety of curious and interesting illustration.

Has our reader ever "assisted" at a scene where the great talker of a company has unexpectedly found himself confronted by some unknown, undistinguished competitor, who, with the pertinacity of an actual persecution, will follow him through all the devious windings of an evening's conversation, ever present to correct, contradict, amend, or refute? In vain the hunted martyr seeks out some new line of country, or starts new game; his tormentor is ever close behind him. Ogden wandered from law to literature. He tried art, scientific discovery, religious controversy, agriculture, foreign travel, the drama, and field sports; and Layton followed him through all,--always able to take up the theme and carry it beyond where the other had halted. If Millar underwent all the tortures of an unhappy host at this, Karstairs was in ecstasy.

He had been spending a week at the Rectory in Ogden's company, and it seemed a sort of just retribution now that this dictatorial personage should have met his persecutor. Layton, always drinking deeply as the wine came to him, and excited by a sort of conflict which for years back he had never known, grew more and more daring in his contradictions, less deferential, and less fearful of offending. Whatever little reserve he had felt at first, oozed away as the evening advanced. The law of physics is the rule of morals, and as the swing of the pendulum is greater in proportion to the retraction, so the bashful man, once emancipated from his reserve, becomes the most daringly aggressive to mortals. Not content with refuting, he now ridiculed; his vein of banter was his richest, and he indulged it in all the easy freedom of one who defied reprisals. Millar tried once or twice to interpose, and was at last fain to suggest that, as the decanters came round untouched, they should adjourn to coffee.

Ogden rose abruptly at the intimation, and, muttering something inaudible, led the way into the drawing-room.

"You have been too hard upon him, doctor," whispered Karstairs, as he walked along at Layton's side. "You should be more careful; he is a man of note on the other side of the Channel; he was a Treasury Lord for some six months once, and is always in office somewhere. I see you are rather sorry for this yourself."

"Sorry! I 'm sorry to leave that glorious Madeira, which I know I shall never taste again," said Lay ton, sternly.

"Are you a smoker, Dr. Layton?" said the host "If so, don't forget this house gives all a bachelor's privileges. Try these cheroots."